


"I told you not to fall in love with me."

by sociallyawkward_fics



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Blood, References to Alcohol, References to Past Bullying, self-deprecation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 08:26:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14849232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sociallyawkward_fics/pseuds/sociallyawkward_fics
Summary: Roman is fine with occasionally coming home from work a bit bruised. No one ever notices, no one's ever up late enough to even see it. That's why he's so shocked when Virgil is awake and ready to help. But maybe, just maybe, this arrangement could work out?





	"I told you not to fall in love with me."

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I suck at summaries. I should get someone to write them for me lol.  
> This was meant to be a drabble, though it got much to long to be considered as that lol. Prompted by my lovely S anon on tumblr.  
> Written for these prompts:  
> 30\. “Is that blood?”  
> 61\. “I told you not to fall in love with me.”  
> 67\. “If you don’t want to talk about it then say so. Don’t lie and pretend to be fine when you clearly aren’t.”

Truly, Roman didn’t expect anyone to be up. Or, at least, not in the living room. And he definitely didn’t expect it to be Virgil, the introvert king.

He’d gotten home very late (way later than he’d told Patton he’d get home) and simply wanted to sleep. Well, raid the first aid kit in the hallway closet, nab some ibuprofen from the kitchen, and  _ then _ sleep.

So no, he did not expect Virgil to be in the living room at two in the morning, and he definitely did not expect Virgil to practically shout “Is that blood?!” as he sneaked through the front door.

Roman was across the room in second, clamping a hand over his mouth.

“Shhh!” He hissed. “ _ Please _ don’t wake Patton or Logan.”

Virgil stared at him, shoving the hand away from his face. “I knew you sometimes got in late from work,” he started slowly, his eyes moving from the bloody nose and lip to the few cuts on his arms, leading to blood staining his white shirt, “but I didn’t know you came home like this.”

Roman winced. “Look, it’s not a big deal. I don’t even know why you care.”

“Roman, we have lived together for over a year. Of course I care.”

“Whatever.” He was digging through the hall closet for the first aid kit now, trying to disregard Virgil’s words.

He knew his roommates weren’t exactly fond of him (well, except Patton. The man was an actual ball of fluffy sunshine and candy and all things good in the world), he was a bit too loud, a bit too abrasive, a bit too dramatic. A bit too  _ everything _ .

Virgil appeared behind him and grabbed the first aid kit from a shelf above his head. Roman turned to glare at him.

“C’mon,” Virgil said, already making his way into the kitchen.

“I can do it myself,” Roman grumbled, but followed Virgil anyway.

“I’m sure you can. But this way I can torture you with antiseptic on those cuts and make you tell me what happened.”

Roman winced at the thought. He would never admit it if asked, but he usually skipped on the antiseptic when cleaning himself up. He  _ hated _ the stuff.

Virgil flopped heavily into a chair and gestured to the one across from him. “Sit. You look like you need to be in bed as soon as possible.”

“Does that mean we can skip the talking?” Roman asked hopefully.

Virgil set the first aid kit on the dining table with a heavy sigh and leaned over to rub his forehead. After a few moments, he sat back in his chair, giving Roman a  _ look _ .

“Only because I think we’re both pretty exhausted. But I  _ am _ corning you after breakfast tomorrow, don’t even try to run.”

Roman’s shoulders slouched. He couldn’t tell if it was relief or disappointment. Probably both.

He scooted forward when Virgil gestured for him to, causing them to be sitting in a very awkward position when he was where Virgil wanted him.

Virgil’s own knees were open wide to accommodate for Roman’s legs, which we practically touching the seat of Virgil’s chair. Virgil was leaning in to get a better look at Roman’s facial injuries. They were inches apart.

“Um?”

“Fuck off if you want help.”

“I think I literally said that I didn’t.”

“Fuck off because I’m helping.”

Roman snorted and tried to ignore how weird it felt to be this close to Virgil, especially when it felt like all they did was avoid each other.

After a few more moments, Virgil opened up the first aid kit and wet a few cotton balls with the antiseptic. Roman resisted to urge to lean away when Virgil raised one towards him, but Virgil caught the look on his face.

“I’m very sorry,” he said seriously, before very gently dabbing at the wound on Roman’s lip.

Roman sucked in a harsh breath at the sting, and Virgil winced.

“Sorry,” he said again.

Despite Virgil’s earlier comments about the antiseptic, he was strangely gentle, dabbing carefully with the cotton balls and turning Roman’s face this way and that with a feather light touch on his chin. He even managed to find a cut Roman had no idea he had in his eyebrow (quite an uncomfortable place to have a cut).

It was strange for Roman, letting someone else take care of him for a change. Sure, Patton checked up on them all frequently, and more often than not fed them, but he’d never had anyone patch up his wounds for him before.

He kind of liked it.

He liked how gentle Virgil was. How careful he was. How hard he was trying to make sure the wound was clean before bandaging it.

Letting someone else take care of him like this? It felt kind of good. Especially since he usually didn’t bother taking this good care of himself.

Virgil moved down to his arms, still using the same tenderness as before.

Despite the sting of the antiseptic, Roman’s eyelids began to droop. He slouched in his chair even more, causing Virgil to scoot forward again with a huff.

“You’re good at this,” Roman muttered without thinking

Virgil snorted. “Let’s hope it doesn’t turn into a regular thing.” Then he paused, looking into Roman’s eyes. “This doesn’t happen often, does it?”

Roman looked down, focusing on his clasped hands. “Often enough.”

In his peripheral, he saw Virgil shake his head with a tense expression. “Maybe this  _ will _ become a regular thing.”

Virgil wrapped a last bandage around Roman’s arm and sat back. “Just don’t fall in love with me,” he joked

Roman scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

Virgil chuckled. “Get to bed. Rest up for your interrogation.”

Roman groaned. “And if I bolt?”

“Good luck with that,” Virgil replied with an eye roll.

And then he was gone.

“Shit he’s fast,” Roman muttered, before making his way upstairs and into bed, not even bothering to change out of his work clothes.

The next morning, Roman woke up sore all over. He groaned and rolled over in bed to check his alarm clock. It was past noon.

“Shit!” He cried, sitting up much too quickly. “Fuck!” He cried out as his head swam and muscles protested.

Seconds later, his door opened without warning.

“Sounds about right,” a deep voice replied, and Roman jumped.

Turning, he saw Virgil leaning against his doorway, breakfast tray in hand.

“Patton left this for you before heading to work. I told him not to wake you because you got in from work late.” He cocked his head. “Well, early.”

Virgil fully entered his room and kicked the door shut. “Now for your interrogation.”

Roman flopped back on his bed with a sigh. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Virgil put the tray on his nightstand with a bit more force than necessary, almost causing the orange juice to spill. “Bullshit. You literally told me that you come home from work bloodied and beaten ‘often enough.’”

“I was tired,” Roman tried. “I wasn’t making sense.”

“You were tired,” Virgil deadpanned. “Your guard was down, making you less likely to bullshit me.”

When Roman didn’t respond, Virgil sighed and sat on the edge of his bed. Roman eyed him warily.

“Sit up and eat, Prince.”

“And what about you, Eckstein?”

Virgil wrinkled his nose. “See, calling  _ me _ by  _ my _ last name doesn’t work as well as calling you by yours. Eckstein? Gross.”

Roman sat up, more slowly this time, and glared. “Did you  _ eat _ ?”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “ _ Yes _ , Mom. Patton made me.”

“Good.” 

Roman dug into his breakfast. Coffee cake, fresh fruit, orange juice. Patton knew just what they liked.

“When I was in high school, kids beat up on me a lot.”

Roman choked on his food. He expected an interrogation, not Virgil’s life story.

“I was weird, different. They didn’t like it. It happened often enough that I got good at patching myself up.” Virgil looked up from where his gaze had been focused on the bed, finally meeting Roman’s wide eyes. “So I know my way around a fist aid kit.”

“What-” Roman tried, but Virgil cut him off with a fierce look.

“If you don’t wanna talk about it, then say so. Don’t lie and pretend to be fine when you clearly aren’t.”

“It’s not like that at all,” Roman said, leaning closer to Virgil. “I swear. My problems are nothing compared to what you just said. It’s not important.”

“Just because your problems are different from mine, it doesn’t negate their importance. It doesn’t mean that it’s not bad.” Then, quieter: “It took me a long time to learn that.”

Roman sighed and set aside his half eaten breakfast.

“It was just some drunk dumbasses.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow, prompting him to continue. 

“A couple of assholes got a bit too drunk. They were making a few women… uncomfortable. My boss couldn’t deal with it because they would’ve done the same to her. She asked me to handle it. Things got a little out of hand.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes. “’Out of hand,’ huh?”

“Okay, it kind of turned into a full on bar fight. One of them smashed a bottle and used it to attack me, that’s how my arms got all scratched up.”

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Roman-”

“The other was pretty good with his fists.”

“ _ Ro _ man-”

“We’re kind of on a bad side of town, no bouncers or anything, and there were no other men working that night, the women were all afraid of them-”

“ _ Roman _ !”

Roman stopped. He didn’t know when he had started breathing so heavily. It wasn’t a big deal, he was overreacting, he just needed to-

Virgil grabbed his hands. “Breathe with me, okay? In for four seconds. Good, just like that. Now hold that breath for seven seconds. Now let it out for eight seconds. You’re doing great, keep going, just like that.”

After a few more minutes, Virgil had completely calmed him down. He felt a little silly.

“Sorry, I don’t know what that was.”

Virgil put a hand on his shoulder. “Roman. You have every right to react that way. I’m very sorry that happened.”

“But-”

“No, you’re allowed to feel that way. It’s not weak or stupid. It fucked you up, and that’s a completely valid way to feel.”

Roman relaxed. “Thanks, Virgil.”

Virgil squeezed his shoulder. “Finish eating, then get some more rest. I know you’ve got another shift tonight. Try to be more careful.”

Roman hummed. “We’ll see.”

From that day on, it became an unspoken agreement for Virgil to stay up at night until Roman came home. Roman had a feeling he had usually stayed up that late anyway, but had simply started spending that time in the living room to wait for him.

Most nights, Roman came home unscathed. They would share a smile, and then head off to bed. It left Roman with a warm feeling in his chest, knowing that Virgil cared.

On nights that Roman came home beat up from rowdy bar patrons, Virgil would quietly take out the first aid kit. They would arrange themselves at the dining table, much like how they’d done the first night. Virgil would patch him up with the same tenderness, a sad look in his eyes. The next morning, he would have Roman talk about it before letting him rest further.

It was a good system. It was a system that made Roman happy. And he could see that some tension had left Virgil as well.

There was only one issue, and it came to him late one night after Virgil had patched him up once more, a few months into their routine. 

His heart had been beating rapidly at Virgil’s proximity. His face flushing at the tender touches. Their teasing banter had left a fluttery feeling in his stomach. This had been happening more and more during these nights, the reactions only getting stronger and stronger.

He sat up like a shot, staring into the darkness of his bedroom. “Fuck,” he whispered. “ _ Fuck _ .”

He had gone and done the  _ one thing _ Virgil had told him not to do.

He’d started falling for him.

Once Roman became aware of his feelings, his reactions around Virgil only seemed to grow stronger. Maybe because he was more aware of them or their cause? He had no clue, only that it was very inconvenient.

Virgil didn’t  _ seem _ to be catching on, but he’d always been a better actor than Roman gave him credit for. He never showed when things were bothering him. Or if he knew something he shouldn’t.

After all, Patton and Logan still hadn’t found out about his issues at work. The mornings after, Virgil always managed to get them to let him sleep in until the others had left for work. It was their secret.

Then, one night, Virgil wasn’t waiting for him when he got home one night. Luckily, he wasn’t injured in any way, but for Virgil to suddenly break routine after  _ months _ ? Something wasn’t sitting right with Roman.

He checked the kitchen. Nothing. Virgil’s room was empty as well. Roman was starting to get a little frantic. Why was Virgil missing at one in the morning?

He threw open the front door, only to almost ram into Virgil as he tried to race down the porch stairs.

“Whoa,” Virgil held out his hands and backed up a few steps. His eyes were puffy, wide, unfocused.

“Virgil?” Roman breathed out. He pulled Virgil into a hug without thinking. “Shit, where were you?”

“I-I was taking a walk.”

Roman pulled back and narrowed his eyes. “At one in the morning?”

Virgil’s own eyes widened. “Shit, it’s that late?”

“I’m home already, aren’t I?”

“Y-yeah, I guess?”

Virgil’s eyes were still darting around, breathing uneven.

“Virgil?” Roman asked, trying to get his eyes to focus on his own. “What’s going on?

“What? No. Nothing.”

“When did you leave the house?”

“It’s-it’s not important.”

Virgil shivered and glanced behind him. Roman followed his gaze but found nothing. 

“Virgil? Is there someone there? And where’s your jacket? It’s freezing!”

“I- no - What?”

Roman didn’t know what to do. He had no clue what spooked Virgil or how to help.

But he had to try.

It was time to repay a favor.

“Virgil, come inside, okay? You’re freezing.”

He place a gentle hand on Virgil’s back, leading him inside and locking the door behind them. If someone was bothering Virgil, they weren’t getting in the house.

He led Virgil into the kitchen and helped him lower himself into one of the chairs before kneeling in front of him. 

“Hey, Virgil, what’s up? Remind me of your breathing pattern. Was it four-seven-eight?”

Virgil nodded shakily.

“Okay, so let’s breathe in for four…”

It took several minutes before Virgil was able to fully get control over his breathing, though his eyes were still glassy. 

His skin was still cold to the touch, so he ran and grabbed a blanket from the linen closet and wrapped it tightly around Virgil before starting on some hot chocolate.

“So, you wanna tell me what that was about?” Roman asked.

Virgil sighed and shivered again. “Some stupid leftover shit from high school.”

After a few moments of silence, Roman prompted again. “Would you like to elaborate?”

“Some assholes I used to go to school with found my social media. They were sending me anonymous hate. And un-anonymous hate. It’s nothing.”

Roman paused in his stirring. “You blocked them, right? Virgil? You blocked them.”

Virgil winced and curled in on himself slightly.

“Virgil.”

“It’s not like they weren’t right!”

Roman turned off the stove, poured the hot chocolate into two mugs, and set one in front of Virgil. Probably with more force than necessary, based on his flinch.

“Virgil, I can tell you right now, nothing those assholes said was true. Now give me your phone.”

Virgil’s head shot up to look at him. “ _ What _ ?” He said incredulously.

“Give me your phone. I’m going to block them for you.”

“Wait, Roman, no-”

“ _ Virgil _ .”

Virgil shakily placed his phone in Roman’s waiting hand, already unlocked. Roman went through Virgil’s social media apps (trying very hard not to look at anything and betray Virgil’s trust) until he found where the hate was stemming from, one of his tumblr sideblogs.

Roman’s blood boiled at the messages.

_ No one will ever love you, you’re too annoying and needy _

_ who would care about someone like you? youre a fuckin mess! _

_ Why do you even bother trying lol _

And some much worse.

Roman blocked every single one of them, anonymous or not. He grabbed Virgil by the shoulders.

“They’re fucking  _ wrong _ , Virge.”

“How would you fucking know?” Virgil said, trying to pull away, taking his phone back.

“Because  _ I _ care, so those fuckers can fucking fuck off.”

He pulled Virgil into a tight hug, feeling the dampness of his tears soak through his shirt.

“Think you said ‘fuck’ enough times?” Virgil laughed weakly.

Roman scoffed. “No way, they deserve worse for even thinking about hurting you.”

After a few minutes, Virgil pulled back. “I told you not to fall in love with me.” He joked.

Roman’s eyes widened and he felt a blush spreading across his cheeks. He quickly composed himself and smirked. “Well, I never was good at following instructions.”

Virgil snickered and pulled him close again.

“Hey,” Roman said after a minute. “We’re gonna be okay.”

Virgil held him tighter. “Yeah. I think we are.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come scream at me, here or on tumblr! (I forgot how to link things, but you can find the link to my tumblr in my profile lol)


End file.
